In Chancery
by sexyvanillatiger
Summary: unrequited Kinn.


How could any walls be so thin? Every slap of skin against skin, Finn is wondering how Burt and Carole couldn't hear it. It is just so obvious what's going on, even if Kurt has taught himself how to keep from making noise. There are still the obvious creaking noises of the mattress and the slight thumping and scraping of furniture, rutting against the floor. Finn is almost certain that he wants to jump out of his own bed, wants to stride madly down the halls until he can shove Kurt's door open and-

-jump inbetween them, holding Kurt's thin frame to his own possessively. Or at least, that's what he was dreaming about before the squeaky mattress woke him up. It's been about five minutes now, and the creaking has increased in volume and frequency, and when his mind interprets this information, his stomach twists a little bit. One of them must be getting close. He can't comprehend why he's listening, except for maybe the fact that he's completely aroused. Besides, sleep is still the dominant factor presiding in his mind. His dreams, the rest he's supposed to be getting, the warmth of his bed around him. He's not at all completely awake, so he can't be held accountable when his hand slips down his sweat-slicked, bare stomach, the sheets of his bed having been shoved away long ago, in his sleep. His sweatpants, the comfortable ones that Kurt absolutely loves to 'mix up' as his own when the clean laundry is distributed, move easily down his legs as he pushes them out of the way. With one hand holding the waistband down, the other trails to his sex and he hesitates, listening to hear if there are any other noises to fuel his lust further.

A gasp.

It's hard to make out, though Finn can easily recognize who it belongs to. It's not much different from the ones Kurt makes in surprise or bliss, and seeing the two emotions on his fellow Gleek within the locked confines of his mind, he produces a scenario in which it's not some stranger rocking the mattress against the wall. It's himself, rocking his hips in a repetitive motion that only he and Kurt know changes slightly with each thrust. Angling differently to tease that spot that Kurt describes as the galaxy button. Because every time Finn hits it, Kurt sees the stars. It's stupid, they both know, but after coining it as such, the two have adapted a Pavlovian response that they aren't quite sure how to break.

Finn's fingers grip his arousal and he tips his head back, eyes closing so that he doesn't know it's himself who's doing this to him. In his wildest imagination, he can see his pretty little obsession bouncing up and down in his lip, matching the rhythm that his hand has formed on his heated flesh. He's thrusting up each time Kurt comes down onto him, breath hitching as he's buried to the hilt over and over and over again. He tightens his fist to how tight he's certain Kurt is, because an ass that fights in those jeans can't be any looser than the tightest fist he can make without hurting himself. He stops, hearing a choked moan, before starting again.

There he is, lying in his bed, Kurt is riding him like it's the fuckin' rodeo, and he's leading every movement, commanding every breath, finally controlling the tiger by the tail. After so long, he's got his hands on those porcelain hips, velvet to the touch. He can't last much longer, knowing that their moans are resonating through the phantom hallways, where nobody can hear them and they can be as loud as they want. He knows Kurt can't last, and neither can he.

A certain buzzing in his ears, the pounding of his blood, blocks out everything but the image in his head, and Finn is finally coming into his hand. He drifts around in post-coital heaven for a few moments before he can be disturbed, and he realizes that it's the silence that sets him off. He glanced over at the wall, noting a soft, snoring noise. The image from moments ago fades, and his arm drops to his side.

He only hopes that the walls aren't as thin as he thinks, because Finn is certain that he doesn't know how Kurt has trained himself to be so quiet.


End file.
